


Interlude: A Day

by deprough



Series: The Mandalorian's Jobs [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bit of Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Slow Burn, Twi'leks (Star Wars), canon compliant through ep4, it's a romance eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deprough/pseuds/deprough
Summary: Just a typical day on The Razor Crest, with one small change.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Mandalorian & OFC
Series: The Mandalorian's Jobs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588885
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Interlude: A Day

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to know where Mando's head was, so I wrote a deep dive into his head. I hope you enjoy my version of his headpan.

Din floated back to wakefulness, his brain slowly cataloguing information. His alarm-light was on and increasing in intensity, so it was time to get up. He lay there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He’d been sleeping, dreaming about being at a bar, only he’d been naked. He’d carried a bandolier of sweet rolls and a holster of beer. In the dream, that had been The Way. Shaking his head at the weird fantasy, he sat up and rubbed his face. After running his hands through his hair, he tapped the alarm-light, killing its garish yellow glow and turning on the bunk’s softer white lights.

He pulled on yesterday’s under padding and his helmet; he could hear Parjii singing already, so running to the head without either was out of the question. Gathering up clean clothing, underpadding, and his armor, he followed the music. She was in the kitchen, of course, making breakfast, while The Kid played with a small pile of toys. The smells made his stomach clench with hunger, and he knocked on the doorframe. When she glanced at him, he said, “I’m in the head.”

“ _ Ka _ ,” she replied, turning back to the food. The Kid grinned at him, grabbed his toes and rolled onto his back. Mando gave him a wave of encouragement and went to the head. 

He stripped quickly, washed, and redressed. As he resettled the helmet on his head, he stopped being Din and became the Mandalorian. He stopped being a mere man, and became the legend. As he considered his beskar, he thought he could feel the thousands before him who had worn it. The touch of the long line of legends who’d worn beskar reclaimed by him brought comfort. 

When he emerged, Parjii greeted him with a pleasant smile and a covered plate. He couldn’t help the smile he returned, though she couldn’t see it. He wasn’t sure if it was in response to her or the food, and he didn’t dwell on it. She’d made no move, and he knew from Xian if she were interested in anything from him, he’d be very aware of her interest.

Mando locked himself in the cockpit and set aside breakfast. Though hungry, it had been eight hours since he’d reviewed the ship’s status. If there were a major problem, he’d have already been alerted to it, so he wasn’t expecting much. A water pump was still acting up; if he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it, they’d have to drop out of hyperspace periodically to vent the port engine’s heat. That’d add a day or two to their travel to Savareen.

Assured that the  _ Crest _ was still on course and running mostly smoothly, he removed his helmet and turned to his breakfast. His mouth watering, he lifted the cover to find a bowl and a sealed mug. The bowl held gruel, but it was nothing like the stuff from a packet that he mixed with hot water; this was thick and hearty, sweetened lightly with dark purple berries. The mug held something cold and pinkish, and close enough to milk that he ignored the color.

Putting his helmet back on, he took the water pump offline and set the remaining pump to maximum capacity. He didn’t want to leave it at that setting, but it’d be fine for a day. Gathering his dishes, he stepped out of the cockpit and went to the kitchen. Parjii and The Kid were still there; she was ladling gruel into him via a spoon while he tried to grab handfuls to put directly in his mouth. “That was good, thanks,” he told her. 

“Welcome,” she said, glancing in his direction for a beat. In that second, The Kid got his hand into the bowl and popped a fat berry into his mouth. Parjii hissed at him but the sound was more exasperation than menace, and The Kid grinned at her with purple teeth.

“Nice reflexes, kid,” Mando chuckled.

She shot him a faux irritated look, but she couldn’t stop the smile. “All over hands!” she chided the baby, taking a rag and wiping them clean. “Just had bath!”

“Parjii, I need to work on the water pump some more,” he told her, distracting her again, and The Kid stole another handful, this time of mostly gruel. 

Sighing, she put the bowl out of his reach and turned to Mando. “Want help?”

“Yeah, keep him busy,” he told her, pointing at the child. “Last thing I need is him getting into the bulkhead again.”

“ _ Ka, _ ” she said, nodding. 

Trusting that she’d do as she said, he went to work, setting the pump into maintenance mode. As he waited for it to drain, he considered that idea: trusting Parjii. He’d viewed her as a burden and a nuisance early on, but lately, she’d made things around the ship more pleasant. The food, the singing, the laughter from The Kid: all were things that came with Parjii, and he’d miss them when she left. She did her best to not get in his way, and the few times she did, she always apologized and corrected. If he was being honest, he was starting to think he’d miss her -- just the presence of another person around him, someone who could talk to him.

_ She doesn’t have to leave _ , his brain whispered.  _ Just never find somewhere safe enough _ .

That wasn’t acceptable and he discarded the thought. She did make things easier, but she deserved a stable life without danger. The water pump beeped and indicated that it was drained, and he disconnected it. With the help of a few tools, he started to pull it apart. The puzzle of deconstruction distracted him from thoughts of his passenger, and troubleshooting afterwards kept him occupied.

“Mando?” 

He blinked and glanced up at Parjii. She stood in the doorway, holding The Kid. The child squealed and reached for him, and over his cry, Parjii said, “Lunch ready. Bring you now?”

A quick glance at the chrono told him he’d been working for four hours. “I need a break,” he said, glancing down at his wet, oily gloves. Stepping away from the machine, he told her, “I’ll take it to the cockpit.”

By the time he’d changed his gloves, she had a deep bowl of a boiled grain scattered with some of the nerf meat she’d found in his freezer. He’d forgotten he’d bought it and probably would have tossed it as too freezer burnt. She’d found a delicious way to use it anyway. 

It was quiet when he left the cockpit, only a soft humming. He left the dishes in the kitchen and followed the noise to the hanger bay. Parjii had taken over most of the space; he wasn’t transporting many carbonite beds now. Her cot was in one corner and didn’t eat much space, but she’d slowly spread out a living area where The Kid could play and sleep. He entered the area just in time to see her lay the sleeping child on his bassinet. 

He stopped, afraid to wake The Kid, but his eyes fell on Parjii. He’d begun to notice that when he was interacting with her, she was mostly pleasant and unoffensive. It was with The Kid that she lit up, giving the little one sweet smiles. One of those gentle smiles had appeared now as she tucked the blanket carefully around the green sleeper.  _ She’s really attached to him. _

For a moment, they both watched: he studied her as she stared at the child. When she turned and spotted him, the smile disappeared and her eyes widened. A second later, that pleasant smile was in place. 

It was her armor. She wore a helmet, just as he did, but for very different reasons, he suspected. “I wanted to thank you for lunch,” he told her softly, mindful of the sleeping child.

“Welcome,” she whispered as she hovered just inside the doorway. 

“I’ll be working on the water pump if you need me,” he told her and moved toward his work. 

“I help?” she asked quickly, trailing after him.

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you.” They were always so polite with one another, he reflected as he returned to his diagnostic work.  _ So careful, that’s the correct phrase.  _ She worked to not offend him -- save on a few rare times where she thought The Kid needed something. He worked hard to not scare her, and succeeded most of the time. He tried not to take her fear of him personally. She’d probably been poorly treated during her imprisonment, and her reactions now were learned. 

In the middle of his considerations of his bizarre crew, Mando realized that the sensor that told the water pump to cycle hot water for cold was fused. He set about knocking the component loose for replacement. Though it took him a bit to get it out, once he did, soldering in the new piece took a few minutes. Then came the puzzle of reconstruction.

Mando had his hands deep in the half-rebuilt water pump when his oily glove slipped on the wrench. “ _ Shab _ ,” he muttered as he heard it clang deep in the pump. He found it easily once he got a flashlight at the right angle, but there was no way to get it. He could dismantle it or he could get smaller hands. 

He found Parjii in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor. “I thought I told you not to clean my ship,” he said.

She jumped and twisted to look up at him. He tried not to notice the agile curve of her spine as she blinked at him. “I… sorry.”

“You don’t owe me this,” he said firmly as she slowly stood up, the scrubbing brush tight in her hand. “You take care of The Kid, and you cook. That’s our arrangement.” 

“I…” She looked down and then back up. “I bored. He sleeping, nothing do.”

He repressed a sigh. “Look, can you help me with something?” he asked her. At her quick nod, he led her back to the pump and pointed out the errant tool. “Can you get it?”

“Try,” she said, pushing back the sleeve of her dress and sliding her hand into the opening. A frown of concentration eased the second he heard the scrape of metal on metal. She carefully pulled her hand free and passed him the wrench. 

“Thank you,” he told her. “You saved me a lot of work.”

“Welcome,” she said with that bland smile that protected her from him. 

“I don’t want you to clean the ship for me,” he told her, and the armor-smile went wooden. “What do you like to do?”

“I like?” she asked uncertainly. 

“Yes, to do when you have free time around here.” He waved at the ship. “I have the  _ Crest _ . Weapon maintenance. Training. You need something. Is there something I can buy, or find? Basket weaving? Silvan spider breeding? A musical instrument?”

Her eyes were wide, but she wasn’t  _ just _ wary or afraid. He saw, buried deep within, a growing courage and desire. “Holo pad,” she blurted, as if the words had pulled themselves out of her.

The urge to ask her if she actually knew how to use it rose and he ignored it. It was the first thing she’d asked of him for just herself, and he wasn’t going to cast any doubt on that want. “They can be expensive, so it might be awhile. After the next big job, I can do that, okay?”

“You can?” She swallowed and he saw the glint of tears. 

“Yes,” he said. He met her gaze, even through the visor, determined to communicate his willingness to get one.

“Mando,” she said softly, her voice shaking, then stopped herself. The air crackled suddenly, charged with energy that had nothing to do with electricity. She licked her lips, her expression uncertain. He waited as his breath caught, and she took a step toward him.

The Kid’s cry broke the tension; they both jumped and she turned to the door. “I check,” she said, and was gone.

Mando stood still for a moment, the wrench in his hand. The breath he’d been holding slipped slowly out of him, and he waited for his pulse to come back to normal. He wanted to laugh that moment off, or to forget it, but he knew it’d be a while before he could do either. She was pretty, she was a fighter, and she loved The Kid completely. 

Omera had been all those things, in different ways, and he'd told her no, too.

Clearing his throat, he went back to the pump, losing himself in the work. Once done, he tested it, smiling at the green lights across the diagnostic this time. He wrestled it back into place and had it halfway reinstalled when Parjii interrupted again. 

“Mando, it dinner,” she said softly. He glanced up, but she had already left the room. He finished the install; by the time he put his tools away, he could smell something rich and creamy. 

Parjii had left a covered dish for him on the table. She and The Kid were in the cargo bay, rolling a ball back and forth. “Thank you,” he said, holding up the tray. “Smells good.”

“Welcome,” she said, and this time, her smile held a hint of real warmth.

Later, after he’d returned the tray and locked himself in his alcove for the night, Mando stripped off his armor and stored it. He sat on the bunk and scratched his head, enjoying the stimulation on his scalp. In the quiet with no distractions, the memory of that moment crept in again. 

He was Din now, and Din didn’t have to sleep alone or say no to anyone. He could go out there, talk to her, and ask if that spark between them could be more. He could give The Kid a kiss on his little green head, hear his voice directly, and stare into those big eyes without a screen between them. 

He’d never be The Mandalorian again. 

He shut off his light, and went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on Tumblr: @deprough. I post daily quotes (er, near daily) from my WIPs as an accountability measure. I'd love to chat. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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